


A box of wonder

by boxofwonder



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A literal lucky bag, Any relevant warnings are mentioned in the notes, Drabble Collection, M/M, Pairings and Ratings in the chapter title!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/pseuds/boxofwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grab bag of various drabbles - pairings and ratings in no order.<br/>Boxofwonder's literal box of wonder!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oifuta | M | 'billboard smiles'

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant notes: Sexual content. 
> 
> For [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth).

“You're the rudest waiter I've ever had the misfortune of encountering.”

Futakuchi moans at the fingers in his hair, digging into his scalp, yanks at the man before him roughly. “And you're the pettiest, most insufferable customer I've ever had the misfortune of -” Oikawa cuts him off with a kiss, but Futakuchi nicks his lip and grins, spitting out his last word like a bullet against Oikawa's lips: “- serving.”

“And yet you seem so enthusiastic,” Oikawa purrs back. How unprofessional, for Futakuchi to let himself be pressed against a wall by a customer the second his shift ended, still in the back alley.

Futakuchi yanks Oikawa closer by the hips, leaning in to breathe into his ear: “You seem quite excited, too, though. Or is this just your obscenely huge wallet?”

Futakuchi doesn't get people with money. People who toss it out at fancy high class restaurants such as the one he's working at, sometimes don't even leave a tip even though it wouldn't hurt them and would put some extra food between Futakuchi's teeth.

This, though. Exhilarating. He doesn't _do_ this kind of thing and yet here he is, hands roaming and pants mingling in the air between them. Oikawa is utterly insufferable, has been from the first second, and somehow their argument had turned into … this.

“Your place or mine?” Oikawa gasps, when Futakuchi's hands slide a little lower. He grins and kisses him again, all teeth and challenge.

“Mine,” he breathes back.

 

\---

 

Futakuchi wakes feeling oddly warm and satisfied and with a vague sense of doom in his stomach about the fact that he feels warm and satisfied. Like after a good workout, but with a smidge more … relief to it. It has been a while since he had felt so boneless and … okay, he's going to say it, there's not a hint of sexual frustration left in his body and _fuck_.

It all comes back to him.

He pushes himself up, looking around wide-eyed. He's alone, blanket bunching up on his lap. He's … naked. Of course he is. There are some impressive hickey down his chest. Is that a bitemark … ? Damn.

Futakuchi drags a hand through his hair, curses under his breath, and sees the note on his nightstand.

 

[call me, sleeping beauty ~ work called me away but i couldnt bring myself to wake you ♥]

 

There's a number written below and Futakuchi stares at it with bulging eyes. The scratchmarks on his back burn as if to prove a point when he thinks of how rough and heat-of-the-moment they had been, compared to a note as if they were lovers and Oikawa would have liked to wake him with a kiss to the temple and breakfast. Is he the kind of guy to? Probably not. People like him don't mingle with people like Futakuchi.

But damn, he _was_ good. Maybe they could repeat _that_. Only physical, no attachment. Futakuchi sighs dreamily, remembering the graceful arc of Oikawa's back and how he had looked like, lips red and parted. What a night.

He types out a text before he can second guess.

 

to: most annoying customer ever

no breakfast?

 

Damn. That was accidentally demanding. A little too attached and a little too close to expecting 'dating' rather than 'one night stand'. Not that he can take it back.

Oikawa's reply comes when Futakuchi is towelling himself off after a shower, still shaking his head over how thoroughly Oikawa has made sure that Futakuchi won't forget last night. His skin looks like a battlefield. (Not that Futakuchi minds in the slightest.)

 

from: most annoying customer ever

next time, I promise~

 

He will forever deny his heart skipped a beat at that promise. Futakuchi gets dressed, throws cold water into his face, and tries to tell his dripping reflection a firm no, but even when the smile threatening to tug the corners of his mouth up can be kept in check, it's already too late to fight the strange giddiness he feels.

When he leaves the house to meet up with Aone in the library, there's definitely a spring in his steps. God damn it. He's almost catching himself humming. _Ridiculous._

That is, until he's waiting at a red light. He stands rooted in spot even as it turns to green, masses of people wash around him, some grumble, but Futakuchi pays no mind. He's only staring at the billboard overhead.

Oikawa's face had been vaguely familiar all night. But – this is _Oikawa Tooru_ no doubt, rising star, hottest topic on all boulevard magazines Futakuchi doesn't care about. Smiling down at him from a gigantic fucking billboard in the middle of the city.

 

to: aone

i think i fucked a movie star on my squeaky mattress in my shitty apartment last night.

 

from: aone

good morning to you too

 

His phone buzzes with another incoming message.

 

from: most annoying customer ever

r u free on saturday, fu-chan?~ 

 

His life is over.

 

to: most annoying customer ever

yes

 


	2. bokukonoaka | G | 'This is not how it works'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto invites both Akaashi and Konoha over to his home for a very important announcement. Konoha has a very bad feeling about all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [paraplyene](https://twitter.com/paraplyene), who dragged me into the hell that is this pairing in the first place.

“I’m glad you found the time to come to my SIM!”

“SIM?” Konoha asks, and Akaashi sends him a sideways glance like _Really? You really want to have him explain it?_

Konoha bites his lip, fingers around his ankles tightening. He’s sitting cross-legged on Bokuto’s floor, feeling absolutely strange and at a loss of what is going to happen. They’ve been here before, for study sessions and a game night that started as Bokuto proclaiming it a great idea and ended with Komi getting three stitches. (Komi still insisted they should do it again.)

But this, this is different. This is Bokuto inviting only Akaashi and Konoha over, into his room. For the so-called SIM, whatever that is.

“A Super Important Meeting!” Bokuto explains, incredulous, like _that_ should’ve been obvious from the beginning. Akaashi’s eyebrow twitches. Konoha agrees with the sentiment, but he doesn’t manage to be annoyed, not really - not when worry is making his skin crawl, feel tight and hot and awkward.

Ever since yesterday, Konoha couldn’t help but wonder - what if this is some kind of intervention? Bokuto is definitely too dense to … realise, the lingering glances on him that Konoha sometimes can’t help. But maybe Akaashi … maybe that’s why they’re here. They noticed, and they want him to stop - but he _can’t,_ he’s _tried,_ for god’s sake! So will they kick him off the team? But it’s never affected volleyball! Konoha _knows_ how to keep the two things apart, being a team and … feelings he never chose, never wanted, and just has to live with.

Honestly, the worst part is Akaashi being here. _He’s_ the last person Konoha wants to _know_ about this -

“Hey, hey, Konoha!” Bokuto is snapping wildly in front of his face, well, _snapping_ him out of his thoughts in the most literal sense.

It’s Akaashi who reaches out and lowers Bokuto’s hand away from Konoha’s startled face.

The captain stares at the contact, where Akaashi’s fingers touch his wrist, and Konoha clenches his jaw and looks away, stomach churning.

Maybe this is something _entirely_ different.

He wants to leave.

“I just -” Bokuto mutters, distracted until Akaashi pulls his hand away, fidgeting where he sits, but still fumbling for his words. “Want both of your attention for this.”

(They’re so obvious. Konoha doesn’t _want_ to pay attention to this.)

Bokuto pulls his puppy dog eyes on him.

Konoha sighs in deep regret. “Yes. You have my attention.”

Bokuto beams, and Konoha’s heart flutters, and Akaashi’s gaze burns into the side of Konoha’s head.

What a strange afternoon.

Bokuto claps his hands, all business now. “Great! Okay! The SIM is now officially in session!” Then he seems to consider something, expression faltering. “Wait - you have nothing to drink -” He’s already pushing himself up off the floor, when Akaashi reaches out, so fast it almost seems desperate. Konoha doesn’t think he’s imagining the tightness in Akaashi’s voice. “Please, let’s just - get it over with.”

“Alright!” Bokuto plops back down on the floor, looking ready to skip into a rant immediately. Only, all he does is keep fidgeting.

“Bokuto-san … ?” Akaashi asks. “Are you alright?”

“YES!” Bokuto shouts, way too loud. “Yes!” he adds, more quiet only for _his_ standards. “Okay, I’m just gonna go ahead. Don’t laugh, okay?! You have to promise not to laugh at me!”

There’s a strange tone to his voice, almost vulnerable. It tugs at something deep, deep inside Konoha. There’s no way he would laugh, no matter what kind of strange idea Bokuto’s about to tell them now.

After both Akaashi and him have promised, Bokuto exhales and nods. He clenches his fists in his lap and takes a huge gulp of breath. “There’s something I need to tell you!”

“... both of us,” Akaashi says, sounding a little disbelieving, sending Konoha another one of those strange, burning stares. Well, burning … they don’t openly, but Konoha recognises there’s _something_ there and it definitely makes him a little nervous, every time.

“Yes,” Bokuto says, voice tight with nerves. “I’ve done a lot of research the past days!”

“Research?” Konoha blurts. What is going _on._

“Will you just let me talk!” Bokuto shouts, arms flailing. There’s colour rising on his cheeks, and it doesn’t seem from being worked up alone. “I read magazines! There’s a lot of really helpful quizzes to confirm stuff!”

Konoha trades an equally-horrified glance with Akaashi. What did their captain come up with now? They had just kept him from ordering 100 rubber ducks last week, and trying parkour with Komi the week before - probably preventing more stitches from having to happen. Nothing good could come of this.

“And I’m, really super sure! I confirmed it with at least three quizzes!”

“Confirmed what?” Akaashi asks, and without missing a beat, Bokuto replies: “That I like you!”

Konoha’s mouth falls open, and he feels like someone just injected some kind of poison right into his heart, pumping it through his veins with each new beat, spreading it in his body.

Akaashi is blinking, the only one not realising what this means.

_Why did I have to sit here for this?_ Konoha wonders, but most of him isn’t really suprised. It figures this is how it ends: Bokuto _does_ like guys, just not him. And Akaashi, that makes sense - he’s beautiful and brilliant, off the court and on it. Honestly, if Bokuto didn’t have to happen to him, even Konoha would’ve probably fallen for Akaashi.

He makes sure that there’s enough air in his lungs, that his breathing doesn’t betray him - that his face doesn’t betray him. Konoha forces an artificial smile on his face he hopes is convincing, and manages to speak with his voice not wavering. “I guess I’m not needed here for this after all.”

Bokuto whirls around, looking … betrayed? “But I like you!” he yells, looking directly at Konoha as he says it, and come _on._ This is just unnecessary torture.

“You like Akaashi,” Konoha says, and Akaashi speaks at the exact same time.

“You like Konoha.”

The two of them stare at each other, Akaashi looking confused and betrayed, and Konoha unable to keep a face up that doesn’t show how … well, confused and betrayed he feels.

“I like both of you,” Bokuto says.

“That - “ Konoha says instantly, lacking the words.

“You can’t,” Akaashi says, definitely. “Pick one. Don’t just drag two people in here springing this on them!”

“Easy for you to say,” Konoha mutters under his breath, without thinking. “He’ll pick you anyway.”

At that Akaashi, whirls around to him, shuffling the way he sits so he can send Konoha a long, hard stare. One of the kind usually reserved for Bokuto. “Are you an idiot? He already picked you, didn’t he?”

“I can’t just pick someone!” Bokuto shouts over them, dramatically clutching his hair. “It’s simply impossible! Whenever I’m around either of you my heart beats really fast and sometimes my palms get sweaty, though I figure I see you in training often so maybe it’s just that, but I also wanna spend time with you and tell you all the cool things happening to me first and - !” Bokuto _finally_ takes a big gulp of air, taking a minute to wheeze out: “I really like both of you! There’s no way I could pick between you!”

“But - that -” Konoha is absolutely floored, head reeling. Bokuto _likes_ him?! His hopeless crush of months actually feels the same way about him?! But … ! About Akaashi, too. There’s … there’s no way that could ever work. “That’s not how it works,” Konoha says.

Akaashi nods. “You can’t just have us both. That’d be … unfair.”

“I don’t think I’d even get one of you,” Bokuto says, voice suddenly small, pointedly looking at a corner of his room like there’s anything interesting there except for an owl poster peeling off at one corner. “I just want you to know so things won’t get awkward, okay!”

Akaashi and Konoha trade another glance, a heartfelt _how dense can you be_ kind of glance, because after all they’re both in the exact same unfortunate position of having fallen for Bokuto Koutarou.

“We both like you,” Akaashi says, looking at Konoha while he says it like he’s checking whether it’s okay. Honestly, Konoha is almost relieved he’s not the one who has to say it out loud. He’s buried these feelings so deep, as deep as they would go, and it still feels wrong to voice them - simply out of habit. “But … you can’t just ask us to share you.”

Now it’s Bokuto’s turn to look utterly taken aback. “What, what, what! Now, wait just a minute! You do?!”

Konoha looks down at his ankles, marks of his fingernails dug into the skin. This time, speaking does feel right, easier. “Yeah,” he says, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from him, admitting it out loud, finally. Akaashi simply nods, and out of the corner of his eyes, Konoha can see how white his knuckles are from clenching his hands into tight fists on his lap.

“But … !” Bokuto shakes his head wildly. “You two … ! You’re always looking at each other _like that.”_

“Like what?!” Konoha wheezes, all the embarrassment that had sort of spared him hitting full force, making his cheeks burn. Akaashi is utterly silent, but there’s a definite flush to his cheeks, too, and Konoha feels a little triumphant he’s not the only one embarrassed. (At least that’s how he interprets the swoop in his stomach.)

“Like, super passionate kinda?! It’s really intense … makes me feel jealous …” the last part is muttered darkly, and sends another jolt through Konoha. Bokuto was … jealous of the glances Konoha shot Akaashi _because Konoha was jealous of Akaashi and Bokuto?_

This is all too much.

“So, you two like me?!”

“Yes,” Akaashi says, definitely at the edge of his patience, voice razor sharp. “And as I said, you can’t just - we can’t just _share you,_ you have to pick one or neither.”

As before, next to Akaashi, Konoha knows he will lose.

There’s no way … no way that Bokuto would choose literally _anyone else_ over Akaashi.

“But, why?” Bokuto asks, cutting through the tense atmosphere like he refuses to be wrapped up in it. “That’s dumb. Konoha, give me your hand.”

“Wha -” He looks at Bokuto’s palm offered to him - broad and wide, calloused from training. Konoha had always wondered how warm they were, imagined them to wrap around his own cold fingers when he lay awake at night, helpless against the thoughts he could usually push away, during the day. (It’s all so disgustingly innocent, too, Konoha could never let anyone know - that he buries his face under his pillow imagining lacing his fingers with Bokuto’s, or being held in a tight embrace, long enough to breathe in Bokuto’s clean scent.)

It’d be easy to take Bokuto’s hand, but Akaashi is staring, too, and doesn’t Konoha know the ugly jealousy that must be tugging at his teammate? So he hesitates - actually hesitates, just to spare Akaashi’s feelings or something -

But then Bokuto takes it upon himself, reaches out to both of them, lacing their fingers and smiling the way he always does - there’s no dialled down happiness with Bokuto. The things that make him happy do so entirely, he _radiates_ his joy. The captains hums in appreciation, squeezing their hands gently.

Konoha’s heart beats fast and hard in his chest. Bokuto’s hands _are_ warm, really warm, and the contact feels so _intimate_ it makes Konoha’s skin burn. He just … wants to stay like this, close his eyes, forget things are complicated and _not right_ and … enjoy it.

“You do it, too,” Bokuto mutters, turning his puppy eyes on Akaashi, then Konoha.

The two of them stare at each other, Konoha _even more nervous_ now. This is easy with Bokuto, who likes him, who appreciates him and clearly _communicates_ that.

But Akaashi … ? There is no way he would do that for any other reason than Bokuto asking him to, and honestly, Konoha feels out of his depth, flustered and nervous and awkward again, heartbeat _too_ fast _, too_ hardnow.

He didn’t ask for this. He would’ve much rather spent his life nursing a hopeless crush than ... sit in this weird circle, overly conscious of how dry his skin is under Bokuto’s fingers, and looking at Akaashi, unsure of what to do.

The setter exhales, long and calm, and extends his free hand towards him, eyebrows rising in unvoiced challenge.

Never one to back down, Konoha reaches forward, action faster than thought.

This might not have been his best idea, he finds, realising with a pang that Akaashi’s fingers are a little longer, slimmer, and look appallingly elegant the way they wrap around Konoha’s hand. His skin tingles, not in an unpleasant way, and his heart will probably _not_ catch a break today.

He looks up, feeling annoyingly unsure, meeting Akaashi’s gaze. There’s something in his eyes that looks like surprise, but a little softer, and it makes Konoha’s stomach do that _thing_ again, and then he looks to the side, and there’s Bokuto, marvelling at them with a dreamy grin that looks a little triumphant, and Konoha is ready to pass, utterly overwhelmed by _warmth,_ burning on his cheeks and flaring up in his chest.

“That’s nice, right?!” Bokuto proclaims, excitedly. He already knows his answer, it seems, and he squeezes both their hands. “See? I have two hands, so I can hold _both_ of you, so I don’t have to choose at all!”

Konoha snorts at that logic, feeling inexplicably light-headed, almost dizzy.

“That’s still not how it works,” Akaashi sighs, and Konoha’s heart skips a painful beat when he lets go of his hand - but then, instead of the stiff, awkward clinging from before, Akaashi laces their fingers comfortably, sending him a small smile.

Konoha’s knees feel weak. He’s glad he’s sitting down. What on earth is … this can’t be happening, can it?

“I really, really, really, REALLY like you guys!” Bokuto shouts happily, breaking their little circle by swooping Konoha and Akaashi up in his arms and squeezing them together in a hug. The air puffs from Konoha’s lungs in surprise, and a little with the force Bokuto puts into holding them, but it’s not unpleasant - not at all.

With Bokuto’s strong arm around him, nose pressed against Akaashi’s neck, Konoha inhales, then exhales a shivery breath, the last of the nervous tension melting from his body.

“This is so not how it works,” Konoha mutters, failing to suppress his grin when he feels Akaashi shiver at the puffs of breath on his neck. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Bokuto cheers loud enough next to his ear to cause a solid tinnitus, squeezing them like he’s determined to break some ribs in his joy, and Akaashi sneaks an arm around Konoha’s back.

What a weird afternoon indeed, but Konoha settles into the strangeness like a comfort, feeling warm and happy to the core. 

This is not how it works, but maybe it could be right, just for them. 

 


	3. kurodai | G | 'perfectly imperfect'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi hopes that after a year of failing to pop the question, a trip to the beach will finally give him the courage to ask Kuroo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's from back in September! It feels strangely liberating to be able to share all these little drabbles now (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

The sand under Daichi's feet is soft, and his heart feels softer. Each beat is careful, gentle. 

In the distance, Kuroo is whooping and spreading his arms wide, running along with the tide, trying to skip over the small crowns of the waves lapping at his feet. Childish, ridiculous. The wind whips at his dark hair, and then he turns, shoes dangling from his hands and sends Daichi the widest grin, cheeks flushed. 

The small box in Daichi’s pocket seems a little heavier. His heart skips a beat and it’s almost painful, with the weight of the feelings welling up in his chest and the curl of anxiety keeping them all tightly bound together. 

“Sawamura!” Kuroo hollers from afar. “Best idea ever!” 

He comes running back, smelling like salt and the wind tugging at him, and Daichi lightly smacks his head. “Last name? Really, Tetsurou? Don’t ya think we might have grown out of that?” 

“So intimate! You're moving so fast, Sawamura,” Kuroo says, hand on his chest in faux coyness with his grin way too cheeky, and steals a rushed kiss from Daichi before he takes off again. 

Daichi yells a half hearted insult after him, watches the sand flying beneath Kuroo's bare feet, his laughter carrying through the air. 

Despite a night of driving, catching sleep in between their driver switches, squinting into traffic lights with the taste of coffee on his tongue - and of course his stiff, aching back from sleeping on folded backseats, curled into Kuroo and with the usual snoring in his ear - Daichi doesn’t regret the split-second decision to stuff the most necessary into a sports bag, grab his boyfriend and take a trip to the beach. 

The ring he has been carrying around for almost a year now … maybe, maybe it will feel right to ask at last. There had been so many failed attempts, cancelled rings in champagne glasses and annoyed staff, failing to create just the perfect atmosphere, tugging at his hair with groans of frustration because  _ how hard could it be to pop a damn question.  _

Maybe ove rthinking isn’t the way to go. Maybe he’ll just ask Kuroo right here and now, without much thought, without much - 

“Hey, Daichi,” Kuroo huffs, his wide sprint across the beach ending before him again. His pants are rolled up, but splashes of water have soaked them anyway, and there’s some sand clinging to his bare shins. He's bracing himself on his knees, panting, grin wide and goofy when he looks up at  Daichi  from under his bangs. “Marry me?” 

“What the fuck,” Daichi blurts. 

Kuroo blinks. “That bad of a question?” 

“No. No. Hold on a minute.” Daichi digs in his pockets and gets out the god forsaken box that has cost him so many nights of lost sleep and nerves and anguish over the perfect way and now Kuroo that  _ fucker  _ just goes and blurts the question out of nowhere?! “I planned to ask you the same for much longer! I put so much thought into it! Do you even have a ring?!” 

Kuroo shrug s . He honestly just shrug s . “I figured we could get to that. I just turned around and there you were, waiting, and I kind of.” He makes a vague hand gesture, smile a little shy and eyes alight with hope. "I want it to stay like this. For you to be with me no matter where I go, always." 

“Idiot,” Daichi growls, mostly to hide how soft and giddy Kuroo's earnest words have made him, and maybe because he is still a little offended  at Kuroo fucking up all his plans. But, Kuroo Tetsurou has just asked him to spend the rest of his life with him, and that was all _both_  of them had wanted, so ... 

Daichi softly cradles Kuroo's face in his hands and kisses him, gentle and calm, like the sea stretching out behind them. 

“Well, you owe me a ring, don’t you?” Kuroo asks when they pull apart, grin a lot more mischievous now, still laced with the same giddiness.

“Maybe I don’t even want to give it to you,” Daichi shoots back. 

“Oh, but I thought you had put so much thought into it ... does it fit the colour of my eyes? Is something cheesy engraved in there? Will mine even be able to live up to it?" Kuroo sounds so excited, and Daichi kicks at some sand and grins as the salty wind tugs at his hair. 

"Probably not," he admits and finally pushes the box into Kuroo's hands. 

 

They walk hand in hand later, fingers laced, and Daichi can feel Kuroo’s ring press into his skin, and finally it feels ... just right.


	4. oisuga | T | light in despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the face of despair, Sugawara Koushi will go to any length to survive. Even if it means seeking out the demon king. (Or what some may call breaking into his castle uninvited.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this experimental writing and in fact, I'm still happy about how it turned out /despite/ the reason I wrote it in the first place. (The worst reason to write anything ever.) (I'll tell if you really want to know but you will hate me.)
> 
> For [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth).

Just as he felt close to break, the relentless attack ceased. Once the arrows stopped whirring against the barrier, Sugawara dropped his hands, fell to his knees. Had the masters not told him? No man could storm the demon’s castle alone, no matter their intention - especially not with magical skills as mediocre as his. Cracks creeped across his shield, now that he did not have strength left to hold his arms up. 

Either the guards would attack again as soon as his shield shattered, or he would wear himself out using up the last droplet of his life force to keep his protective spell up. 

Naturally death was … inevitable. 

And hadn’t he known from the beginning? 

Just hope could fool a man with nothing to lose into a mission doomed from the start - one last gamble, to change it all for good or fail. Offering a deal to the Demon King had been a last straw to cling to - Sugawara’s soul in exchange for the disease, the curse feeding at his heart to be lifted before they could turn him into another body made of smoke and devoid of will. How much worse could it be, knowing his soul in the hands of a King who had united the Kingdoms against the Shadows, instead of succumbing to a disease swiping across the land hungry to gain more dead for their ever growing ranks? 

“Now, now -” came a voice, a voice which held so much power it made the entire hall scattered with guards freeze in their spots. “Could anyone explain what is going on before you ruin more of my carpets?” 

Ending it all seemed  to be postponed for now - Sugawara had dropped his shields in awaiting of death the second that voice had rang, but nobody moved a muscle to attack anymore as a man of tall build marched through the wide hall, a deep red cape flaring behind him. 

At first glance Sugawara knew it could be no one but the King, a man as breathtakingly beautiful as lighting and thunder raging over the sea - carrying himself with confidence and authority with each stride towards where Sugawara sat hunched over, barely able to move anymore.  

Only the sound of Sugawara’s ragged breathing could be heard next to the boots of the demon on the polished marvel, finally coming to a halt directly in front of him - so close, Sugawara could feel the unrest of the guards around. 

Had they no eyes? Neither the will nor the strength, or even the ability to harm their King was still left in Sugawara’s body. 

Catching even one glance of his eyes should show that the darkness had seeped into his eyeballs - that there was not much time left for him to  _ have  _ a will in the first place. Erasing all of the person it had infested - that was the purpose of the shadows. Numb fingers curled into his tunic, and when Sugawara raised his head, despite all his fatigue and fruitless struggle, meeting the eyes of the Demon King kindled a spark of fiery hope in him. 

“Are you ready to die?” were the only words the demon asked, soft around the edges like a dagger wrapped in velvet. 

Jumbled thoughts came to a halt as Sugawara’s existence boiled down to this - facing the loss of himself, almost beaten to death at the feet of the most powerful of Kings, meeting a gaze so intense, almost  _ scalding  _ him. On any other day, Sugawara might have showed his respects and kept away from a man so dangerous, but. No such luxury was granted to him now, so he forced himself to his feet with the last of his strength. 

Crying for help - no, he had not stooped so far. Even now Sugawara had an  _ offer,  _ not a plea, and so he met Oikawa Tooru’s eyes head on, even when shivers ran down his spine under such scrutiny, the demon’s gaze speaking of the lazy confidence of a predator in their territory ready to pounce, but only if necessary. 

“No dice,” Sugawara choked out, voice raspy, the tremor in his fingers almost violent, knees weak, but his head still high. “A deal is what I came here to offer - my soul for my will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I had the time to write this out, but for anyone interested: 
> 
> \- Oikawa takes up Suga's offer and heals him, soon appreciating his sharp mind and ability to reassure in their strive against the shadows  
> \- Suga enjoys his place at his side as right hand man, enjoys being alive more than anything, growing in his new role with the responsibility on his shoulders and the appreciation he gets in turn  
> \- Oisuga become flirty and then physical, not treating it as big of a deal, ignoring any kind of fonder feelings that are totally not happening to them (not at all)  
> \- Suga doubts his growing feelings for Oikawa, wondering if it is just the effects of his taken soul, questioning whether he wants to spend his life in such debt. He eventually approaches Oikawa with demand for a mission to trade his soul back  
> \- Oikawa, terrified to lose Suga, gives him an impossible mission: to bring his lost knight Iwaizumi back (Oikawa has tried for years, futile)  
> \- Suga succeeds after a year worth of travelling, assuming he is bringing a long lost lover back, still trying to convince himself the feelings of longing for Oikawa that won't ease and only grow stronger are just the longing for his soul in Oikawa's hands  
> \- Oikawa is overjoyed reunited with Iwaizumi  
> \- But he finds he can't keep Suga, should have never tried   
> \- He confesses that he never actually took Suga's soul – too scared it might diminish that fire in Suga's eyes when they first met, too captured by it to risk it. It was all for show for the court  
> \- They both acknowledge their mistakes, settling that parting is probably for the better  
> \- They shake hands and smile pleasantly at each other, say their goodbyes  
> \- Neither of them ever remembers who moved first but next thing they're kissing, ignoring their goodbyes and FINALLY fucking honest about their feelings  
> \- Iwa-chan shakes his head in the distance but he's glad they figured it out 
> 
> THE END, baked with triple cheese!


	5. ushioi | T | 'sleepy morning'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa wants to cuddle. Ushijima just wants to be on time for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever realise just ... how much ... your best friend inspires you ... 
> 
> For [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth).

He reaches out to silence the alarm clock, when two strong arms wrap around him from behind, tugging him back into the warm comforts of bed insistently. “Five minutes,” Oikawa mumbles, voice hazy with sleep and hair no doubt in utter, endearing disarray.

“Tooru,” Ushijima says, reprimanding, but his boyfriend only tightens his hold on him.

“Five more minutes, don't leave yet.”

“You said that five minutes ago. And the five minutes before that. I'm running late.”

Oikawa buries his nose between his shoulder blades and cuddles up to him fully, warm and solid against Ushijima. The feeling of home and temptation at once, all in one person. Ushijima sighs. “Shirabu will have my head.”

“Fuck Shirabu,” Oikawa mutters, sighing contently when Ushijima makes no further attempt to move. “Wouldn't you rather spend your morning with me?” And then, for the final, absolutely unfair blow, Oikawa breathes into his ear: “Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima turns around, a little awkwardly at first because Oikawa's grip won't let up until he realises what his boyfriend is up to. Ushijima traces his jaw, glances at Oikawa in the half-dark of their room. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so he leans in and kisses him, with too much passion for the sleepy haze lingering in the air between them. Oikawa makes a soft, surprised, but all too pleased noise in turn, warm and pliant under Ushijima's touch. When their lips part, their breathing is ragged. “Tooru ...” Ushijima whispers.

His boyfriend still lies with his eyes closed, voice thick with anticipation. “Yes … ?”

Ushijima presses a kiss to his forehead. “I'm running late.”

With that, he throws the blanket off and quickly rolls out of bed, before Oikawa is back to his senses. Which is a second later, with an indignant scream. “You - !”

Ushijima dodges the pillow thrown at him and grabs for the folded clothes he put out the evening before.

“You're _horrible,_ Ushiwaka!” Oikawa curses, throwing his own pillow this time. It smacks Ushijima's shoulder quite underwhelmingly. “I hate you!”

“Your words seem rather weak in light of our upcoming anniversary,” Ushijima informs him dryly, already at the doorframe.

“I can't be held responsible for my bad life decisions,” Oikawa hisses.

“You can,” Ushijima replies, and Oikawa throws the blanket at him, leaving him sitting only in alien print boxers. Ushijima catches one edge of the blanket, looking between it and his boyfriend. “What did you think you would achieve?”

“Just give me the blanket back.”

Ushijima carries it over and drapes it over Oikawa, who pouts up at him. “You owe me. Kissing me like that only to run away!”

Ushijima drops another kiss on his locks. “Tonight, then. I'll see you after work. I love you.”

“I don't find you entirely insufferable!” Oikawa calls after him.

Ushijima smiles. What a warm start to his day.


	6. oifuta | T | 'sleepless'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futakuchi feels cold, and he knows how to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO CELEBRATE ANIME OIFUTA, have the first drabble I wrote in 2016 (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

Hands tug at his blanket, catch on a strand of hair. A grumble turns to a hiss at the sharp pain at his scalp. Sleepily, Oikawa swats the hand away, mind catching when cold hands wrap around his fingers clumsily, holding them in place. 

“Blanket,” Futakuchi whispers in the dark next to him, squeezing half of Oikawa’s hand awkwardly. He giggles. “‘S the only one. Cold. Make room.” 

Oikawa exhales deeply. What a tremendously bad idea. “Get your own blanket, Fu-chan. Ask Aone. Get your own  _ mattress.”  _

Futakuchi’s cool thumb brushes over Oikawa’s palm, the miniscule movement silencing all words at the back of Oikawa’s throat. 

“But you’re warm,” Futakuchi breathes, voice open in a way it would not be, normally, if he had not been drinking so much with everyone, too much. His voice is warmer than he claims Oikawa to be. 

This time, when he tugs at his blanket and clumsily tries to shuffle close, Oikawa does not fight it, even though he should. Iwaizumi is going to punch him for this. You don’t share a blanket with your tipsy crush, feel their cold toes against your ankle at four a.m., head clouded from drowsiness so much Oikawa might as well be tipsy, too. 

Futakuchi wriggles and shuffles, causing too much of a ruckus, right until his head is tucked under Oikawa’s chin, body curling into the touch, seeking proximity and contact. Oikawa holds his own breath as he feels Futakuchi’s ghost across his collarbone. 

“Y’smell so good,” Futakuchi whispers. A shiver runs down Oikawa’s spine, heavy enough to make his toes curl and his chest ache. Such a bad, bad idea. 

“Shut up, Fu-chan,” he whispers. “Go to sleep. Don’t say things you’ll regret.” 

“I won’t.” Futakuchi sighs again, like he has found peace after a long journey, not like he had simply crawled under Oikawa’s blanket at a shitty sleepover. “Couldn’t regret  _ you.”  _

It doesn’t even make much sense, honestly, but there’s something so honest and heartfelt about the way Futakuchi says it. Oikawa bites down on his lip with so much force he’s afraid he’ll draw blood, and loathes himself when his hand reaches out, carding his fingers through Futakuchi’s hair. The other boy shivers, sighs. “Feels good,” he whispers. 

“Go to sleep,” Oikawa commands again, terrified of what else Futakuchi’s loose tongue would drop on him, carve into his brain in a way Oikawa would never forget again even when it was just a drunk spur of the moment. 

Futakuchi hums and burrows ever closer, warm as he’s pressed against Oikawa, who reluctantly curls an arm around him. Tries to tell himself he does not have any other choice that wouldn’t be too uncomfortable to sleep like. Pretends he doesn’t enjoy the longing in his chest to ease, this once, with Futakuchi breathing peacefully in his arms, relaxed and content. 

“You will regret this,” Oikawa sighs into Futakuchi’s hair, feeling vulnerable, defeated.

Futakuchi doesn’t hear him, breathing already evened out.


	7. hinayama | T | choose your own adventure edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaking into what may very well be a pirate space ship to flee from the security force of his own planet was certainly not what Yamaguchi had in mind, but here he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble was a choose your own adventure kind of fic over on twitter - only the first of more to come, I hope :> If you're interested, [here's the thread!](https://twitter.com/citrusfluegel/status/698268984513314817)

His feet are numb, and his shoulder feel overly tensed. Breathing hurts from the awkward angle, his elbows are aching as is the bump on the left side of his head when the cargo tipped over and skidded across the ground. By now, everything has been quiet long enough for Yamaguchi's own breathing to drive him insane. Time to at least get out of this barrel and into the cargo room itself.

Hinata is getting restless, too, slithering around. Being caught in a barrel with a large snake half-wrapped around his leg is _not_ the best experience of his life.

But now that the ship has left orbit – fleeing the planet has been all that matters. Even if they're caught, at least Hinata won't be killed for mere existence.

With a groan, Yamaguchi pushes off the lid of the barrel. In his sheer excitement, Hinata slithers out into the light first, and Yamaguchi freezes when there's definitely a startled noise from the cargo room. A human noise.

Oh, goodness. Has someone been there the entire time?

“I would come out if I were you. At this point, hiding away is futile.” The voice is mild, but Yamaguchi has a feeling he should definitely not mess with this person. That had been a command, not a request. So he awkwardly crawls out of the barrel and squints into daylight, feeling stiff and wrong. His joints crack as he struggles to his feet, and in his panic, Hinata tries to heave himself up on Yamaguchi's shoulders which leaves them with awkward manhandling until Hinata rests heavily around his arms and shoulders after all.

“Please -” Yamaguchi begins, hands finally free to be raised in a pacifying gesture. “I can explain -”

The guard before him only seizes him up. The man appears to be human, or at least a humanoid race, face carved with so much unfair dedication and attention to beauty, it seems almost … on purpose. The eyes of the man are dark, but there's a blue glow from within the pupils when Yamaguchi looks closely -

Oh. An android. He does not appear to be a fighter, too light in build, _too_ humanoid in form, but there's an intimidating sniper rifle slung across his back and he holds himself with the elegance of a feline predator, not quite at ease, ready to pounce and finish simple prey off once it becomes necessary.

(Is it necessary yet?!)

“You have snuck aboard our ship,” the android states, voice still so mild, but Yamaguchi is on edge. It feels like facing a trial. “This is not a suitable place for a minor, precisely because we will not treat you according to your age. This ship is not a transportation vessel. We have much different goals in mind, and a spy will certainly not leave until we know your exact occupation, goals, and client.”

Spy?! Clients?! Yamaguchi curses as Hinata almost yanks him over, getting restless on his shoulders. He can't wait to get his friend back into human form. Well … friend. Classmate? Acquaintance? Frankly, Yamaguchi does not _know_ Hinata really well, they've talked a couple of times, gotten along well.

Not enough to call him a friend.

Not enough to accidentally know Hinata's biggest secret, run from the security force with their stun guns and drones, sneak onto a tiny vessel that seems suspicious in its patched up nature, and get blamed to be a spy who will be dealth with accordingly.

Yamaguchi is still wearing his school uniform. Tattered and dirty and sweaty and gross. There's scrapes and cuts across his cheeks and hands and shins.

48 hours ago, he would have never anticipated to make such a decision.

Hinata drops off his shoulders with a heavy thump, and silently turns back to his human form, jumping to his feet to push himself between Yamaguchi and the android, arms outstretched in a protective stance. Despite being a head shorter than him, despite being hit by a stun gun before and off much worse. Yamaguchi's heart may just skip a beat.

“He did this for me! He has nothing to do with this! Please leave Yamaguchi out of this! He already sacrificed too much to keep me safe!”

“No, no -” After all this?! As if Yamaguchi would just let Hinata sacrifice himself or anything! “Honestly, we just – please, I can pay you, somehow, we just needed to get away – they wanted to _kill_ him - !”

Hinata is a shapeshifter, but that doesn't mean he is _bad_ or anyone has a right to decide his existence warrants _killing_ him. Just because of a century old grudge between snake and owl shifters, this -

“Hey, hey, what's going on!” A man comes striding over, hair bright white and deep black, standing any which direction, so distracting in its flashiness that at first Yamaguchi misses the telling amber of his eyes – the colour of -

Hinata freezes, and instantly, Yamaguchi switches places with him. Tries to cover his classmate with his own body, not sure it will help – that anyone could keep this shifter from ending what the security of his planet had failed to carry out.

“Akaashi? Who are these kids?” the man asks. There's a gigantic axe strapped to his back. Yamaguchi realises he has made a horrible, horrible mistake.

“Just stowaways I caught.”

“Woah! You made it past our security?!”

“Bokuto,” the android says, exasperated. “Please do not encourage them in breaching our security.”

“But it _is_ pretty damn amazing. Hey, kid? You're a snake shifter, right? I ain't gonna hurt you. I don't hold grudges, it's stupid. You're safe with us.”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, sounding like a warning, but the owl shifter waves him off.

“Daichi's gonna want to see them. And they need food. Look at these kids. They've been through hell! It's unacceptable! It's our duty to take care of them!”

It's unspoken between them, but in their confusion and hope and terror all the same, when Hinata's hand finds his, they lace their fingers for comfort. Their skin is clammy, but neither of them is alone, and after what they've been through, Yamaguchi wonders if they'll ever be again. He didn't use to have close friends, at the boarding school they attended, on a planet that wasn't his own – but perhaps, if they truly can stay here – if they won't be killed or tortured or worse – perhaps …

“Kageyama has the bridge at the moment,” Akaashi replies, apparently resigned to Bokuto's plans. Not being harmed, being taken care of – that doesn't sound so bad? Just in case they're not lying. Yamaguchi side-eyes their weapons again, squeezes Hinata's hand, who comes to stand next to him.

“You promise you won't hurt us?” Hinata does not ask, but demand to know.

Bokuto puts a hand over his heart and makes sure to look at Hinata, then Yamaguchi. His gaze is so open and intense, Yamaguchi has to look away.

“I promise. Welcome aboard the Phoenix, kiddos.”

 


	8. iwakage | T | choose your own adventure edition #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi is a lifeguard. Kaiju attacks are certainly not in his job description.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally [every single vote](https://twitter.com/citrusfluegel/status/698314918970466304) on this second story was a tie, so in the end, I went for both prompts and let my best friend decide on the characters. 
> 
> Alas, yet another drabble for [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth).

Here's what Iwaizumi's job entails: saving that cute, way too earnest guy with eyes bluer than the sea from drowning in the sea. Earning his gratitude forevermore. Some occasional flirting just to see the flush on his face.

Keeping the beach safe along with his colleague Daichi is what they do right, and well, fast and efficient and with a lot of dedication.

Here's what hasn't been in the job description: some ugly reptile that doesn't even come close to Godzilla's coolness rising in the distance like this is a fever dream.

“Hey, Daichi,” Iwaizumi says, voice flat, staring at the horizon as the people around erupt into panic and screaming, torn between whipping out smartphones to film the ordeal and gathering their stuff to get the fuck away.

“You're not hallucinating,” Daichi replies, voice equally lacking all intonation. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Do we run?”

The thing is a lot faster than popculture made him believe, in case of a giant reptile attack. This is _so_ not in his job description.

People have generally taking to running by now. Probably a smart move. Iwaizumi feels partly responsible, like he should bring some kind of order into the retreat, but mass panic won't be able to be tamed in the first place and he knows, he knows Kageyama is somewhere in this mess and the kid has the self-preservation instinct of a rock.

Asahi comes running towards them, eyes wide. He and Daichi cling onto each other, fall into it almost. “It's going to be alright,” Daichi says, voice unwavering, with underlying force. Like his sheer conviction can bend the world to his will.

“Get out of here,” Iwaizumi says. All this feels surreal. “Stay in touch.”

They don't have much time for goodbyes. Daichi and Asahi follow the stream of panicking people and Iwaizumi pushes against it, calling Kageyama's name until his throat aches, trying to be heard over the screaming.

People are clearing out. The giant alien – reptile – not-Godzilla – _thing_ is almost upon them.

A person trips into him, and when they stumble apart, Iwaizumi catches a flash of dark hair and bright eyes before Kageyama wraps his arms around him. “You're here,” he gasps, like there's not a person he'd rather face whatever apocalypse is coming with. Like he had been terrified that Iwaizumi would have ran without him and never come back.

The thing is still advancing. Iwaizumi wraps his arms around Kageyama's waist and lifts him up. With a squawk, Kageyama wraps his legs around him and holds on for dear life as Iwaizumi breaks into a sprint.

Giant monster? Not in his job description.

Saving Kageyama? That much he can do, he figures. Somehow.

They can deal with the apocalypse _after_ they survive.

 


	9. oikuroo | T | choose your own adventure edition #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto wants to find Kuroo's soulmate. It all goes downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another [choose](https://twitter.com/citrusfluegel/status/698609812440014848) your own adventure drabble! Stay tuned for the valentine's edition tomorrow.

What starts this mess are Bokuto's enthusiasm and puppy dog eyes. And when he's really, _really_ into an idea, it's hard to … deny him.

So that's how he becomes Kuroo's Sight.

Frankly, Kuroo always imagined it to be Kenma who would become his Sight. Or perhaps, his soulmate in the first place. They had tried it once, even, and after the first disappointment of his best friend in the whole world not being his soulmate, Kuroo had never tried again.

Gifting the Sight to a trusted person is something only possible once a year, for a week exactly. This person would be able to see their friend's red string of fate that connected them with their soulmate.

It usually ended in people walking around the city in pairs and hoping for the best for an entire week straight.

So that's why Kenma is kind of … well, not as suited as Bokuto, who is vibrating in his seat and definitely here for the task.

Honestly, Kuroo is unsure about the whole thing. Not exactly excited at the prospect of more disappointment and all. But … well, what can go wrong? Besides, when this week is over, he'll have the perfect excuse for prying questions. His Sight already used up for a year.

It's worth the peace, and seeing Bokuto smile, he figures.

So with a deep sigh, he takes Bokuto's hand. “I ask you, dear friend, to become my eyes and carry my hope. Follow the path of fate with me.”

Kuroo does not feel much of a difference after the ritual words, but Bokuto gasps and his eyes widen. He reaches out and touches Kuroo's wrist. “Woah.”

It feels strange all over again, to know another person can see your … destiny? That sounds a little tacky.

Bokuto pouts. “It's not me.”  
“Aww, did you hope it'd be you?” Kuroo asks with a grin, though he has to admit, it would've been nice.

“I don't know,” Bokuto mumbles, almost a little sheepish. “Platonic soulmates are cool. Like getting a bro for life.”

Kuroo shoves his shoulder. “You don't need some kinda red string for _that._ ”

Bokuto beams and is back to business in .2 seconds flat.

This is going to be a long week.

 

\---

 

“ _Dude_!”

It's day three without some kinda sign, but something in Bokuto's voice sets Kuroo off. “What?” he asks, brows furrowed. Oh, please, he'd already made peace with the whole ordeal being futile. The concept of soulmates seems a little useless when he already has close friends and is happy the way things are. No need for a red string of fate.

“This is the second time this week it's _doing this thing._ And you were out studying again!”

Kuroo looks down at his hand as if he could see the glowing band there, which, obviously he doesn't.

“The library,” Bokuto proclaims with stars in his eyes, grabs his wrist, and drags him out resolutely.

 

\---

 

So they end up in the library, because Bokuto is utterly convinced the person will just walk through the door again eventually. At first, they do try to study, but get told off when Bokuto gets bored and starts a paper plane attack on a middle schooler being tutored two tables over who keeps pulling faces at him.

“Can we leave now?” Kuroo asks. Whispers. He wants to actually use his voice again, and he's pretty positive Bokuto is actually about to snap with all the stored up, restless energy of the day.

“We're coming back tomorrow,” Bokuto decides, pouting.

 

\---

 

“Look, I don't see how -” Kuroo catches himself and lowers his voice. He's _tired_ of being quiet. Usually he only comes here during exam hell to study his brains out, but at least he actually has something to do then.

Better than waiting and … well.

“Dude! We don't have much time! I'm not messing this up!” Bokuto puts his fists on his hips and looks around himself in concentration, brows furrowed. “Your wrist's flipping the fuck out so we're definitely right. The person's right here! … I think. I'm like 99% sure. Or maybe 75%? … 69%!”

Kuroo snorts and allows him a fistbump for it. Well.

At least he did pick a good book today. Bokuto, this time around, decides to take his place at the opposite end of this floor so he will have a broader view of the people moving around, and their wrists.

With a sigh, Kuroo flips his book open and resigns himself to another afternoon wasted.

 

\---

 

When the whistling starts, everything in Kuroo tenses. It's coming from the sci-fi section, as per usual.

He tries to ignore it, but when he reads the same paragraph for the third time with a twitching eyebrow, he finds he can't keep quiet about this. With an unpleasant snap he shuts the book and pushes himself up, stomping around the shelf to find the same forsaken guy who had ruined the peace of so many study sessions held here.

“Would you shut the fuck up,” Kuroo hisses.

The troublemaker in question turns around, brown eyes wide in feigned shock. He touches his fingertips to his chest. Kuroo _knows_ those brown locks, that smile, this infuriating behaviour. And of course, the tone of voice. “How rude! But what else would I have expected of _you.”_

Kuroo grinds his teeth. “Are you aware of where you _are_? This is a library. So stop whistling.”

“Thanks for the information. Did it hurt your head to think so much?”

Narrowing his eyes, Kuroo takes a step closer despite some part of him whispering that leaving would perhaps be a better idea. But this guy just _gets_ under his skin so much.

Even before he pointedly starts whistling again.

“Did you not listen to me _just now_ ,” Kuroo grinds out. “Stop being a bother or I swear I'll _make_ you shut up.”

“Why, you're so forward!”

Kuroo had not meant _those_ implications. Feeling a flush creep up his neck, he's grateful that at least, the next statement of Pretty Boy is outrageous and gets Kuroo right back on the track of offense and annoyance. “I never listen to people who don't believe in aliens~”

Essentially, that statement throws Kuroo for a loop until he realises that their first encounter had involved a discussion along those lines. “I only stated that nothing was proven so far.”

“If you're dull enough to look at an endless universe and believe we're the only form of life there, I can only feel pity for you. I don't need these kind of people in my life.”

Kuroo's brow twitches. This whole alien debate seems to have struck a nerve, and come to think of it -

“Wait. Is _that_ why you've been annoying me whenever we cross paths here?! A stupid fucking alien debate!”

The other man gasps gently in the most cringe worthy attempt of seeming innocently offended. “Me? Annoying?” He flutters his lashes, and Kuroo wonders why the people with the worst personalities get the best looks. Honestly, this beauty is wasted on a person who would purposefully start whistling tunes around people in the library who are only trying to relax.

“Honestly, this is Exhibit A,” Kuroo comments dryly.

“You're no fun at all, Bedhair-chan,” the stranger replies, voice suddenly a whole lot darker, part of the playful air gone. “Maybe _you're_ the one who has been annoying _me.”_

“Excuse you?” He's not sure who of them moved first, but they're way too close all of a sudden, getting into each other's face, trying to intimidate. “Say that again.”

And Pretty Boy complies, sounding each word carefully, wrapping his lips around the syllables like they're a delicious piece of chocolate. “You. _Annoy_ me.”

Kuroo opens his mouth to tell him to _stay the fuck_ away from him then, when Bokuto bursts around the corner, skidding to a halt with wide eyes and an open mouth, gesturing wildly.

“There he is! There's the bond!”

“No,” the infuriating stranger says, making the connection immediately. “ _No._ He is not your -”

“I'm his Sight!” Bokuto shouts in his excitement and pride. “And that is one hell of a glowing bond you got there!”

Kuroo meets the eyes of his – _definitely not_ soulmate _this is some kind of strange fucked up mistake or prank –_ and they both know in the same second how goddamn screwed they are.

 


	10. Terudai | T | Dream me a wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terushima does not care about Sawamura.  
> Unfortunately, his subconscious didn't get the memo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm so deep into this hell and for the exact same reason that I have fallen into bokukonoaka hell. Shoutout to [paraplyene](https://twitter.com/paraplyene), bane of my shipping existence (but unfortunately also too lovely for her own good).

Those eyes on him alone root Terushima in place where he stands, locker at his back, the room’s edges dark, blurry, unimportant against the brightness Sawamura stands in. With a tongue tied and no word escaping, all that is left for Terushima is to wait breathlessly. Each step Sawamura takes closer booms like claps of thunder, but he himself is as calm as the eye of a hurricane. Terushima’s pulse is rushing in his ears, skin feeling hot, too tight. Everything about this unsettles him, unravels him, and yet he can’t (doesn’t want to) leave.

And then Sawamura is close, close enough to reach out and _touch_.

Terushima’s stomach turns like he has been dropped from a freefall tower when Sawamura’s burning gaze pins him down, expression not giving anything away. The air tastes like exhilaration, like a threat (a promise), buzzing with tension and electricity. More than anything, Terushima wants to run from this, to hide away - but there is no place to go, nowhere to escape - and his knees feel weak, heart tempted to surrender.

If he can’t move anyways, can’t run - what point is there to do anything else but let his eyes fall shut when Sawamura’s hand reaches up to touch his cheek, grip firm, skin rough, yet gentle - careful. Ever so reliable. Terushima’s lips fall open in a gasp unheard at how much the touch burns and prickles, sets something aflame in him.

“I know what you want,” Sawamura breathes, sending shivers and goosebumps across his skin, and then he presses his lips against Terushima’s roughly, no room for argument or doubt, pressing him up against the lockers and swallowing the noise of surprise ---

 

Terushima stares wide-eyed at his nightstand for several seconds before he realises that he’s awake, that Sawamura is not pressed against him, that it had all been a dream, but his heart is still racing and there is nothing about this situation he _doesn’t_ feel utterly embarrassed about.

_Holy shit._

He curls up, confused and angry at how unsure he is what to be angry about, that the dream happened at all or that it _ended too soon -_

Whining, he pulls his pillow over his head and muffles a groan in it.

What the _fuck._

 

\---

 

“That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong, I can’t hear you sigh even one more time.”

Terushima glances up at Misaki, standing with one hand on her hip. It’s not the No Bullshit Pose that means trouble - her eyes are soft, so she probably won’t tear him apart entirely and stick to some gentle prying.

Not that he particularly feels like sharing _anything_ about this whole ordeal. Terushima has turned all this over in his head five hundred times already and frankly, by now he’s got a headache and a sour mood. This whole thing will better stay buried and forgotten.

“You're pouting like a little kid,” Misaki informs him ruthlessly as she lowers herself on the ground next to him. “What's on your mind? It can't be good for team morale to have the captain distracted.”

“I'm not distracted,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair and resting his cheek on his knee, gaze away from Misaki.

“Uh-huh,” she replies, with an annoying tone of 'Whatever you say'. “So, what's got you not distracted at all?”

The snappy reply already on his tongue, Terushima hesitates. He’d tried to vaguely breach the topic among his friend who’d all just latched onto teasing him about getting flustered over a wet dream or something, but Misaki is a girl, and girls are kind of, like … less perverted, right? So maybe she’d be able to help him out, because the problem is not the _kind_ of dream, it’s _who._ Not that Terushima can tell _anyone_ that he dreamed of Karasuno’s captain pushing him up against a -

With a whine, he mashes his face against his knees to hide his burning cheeks.

After a little bit of silence, Misaki gently pokes his shoulder, and Terushima whines again, then gives a long suffering sigh. Their manager is his only chance, probably.

“Have you ever been so bored that, like, you didn’t care at all? But you didn’t care so much to a point where you, like -” Cared? Not the right word. He’s probably just so caught up in not caring, that somehow, it warped backwards and into his dreams. Something like that. That makes sense, right? Definitely!

Misaki snorts. “What?” she asks, barely concealed amusement in her voice.

Despite his still burning face, Terushima lifts his head to look at her, gesturing. “Are you ever so indifferent to something that you, like - dream of it … ?”

One of Misaki’s eyebrows arches gracefully, and somehow, that look never means anything good. “Do you need me to confirm that a dream doesn’t have to mean anything?”

Terushima’s eyes light up. Misaki _does_ understand him! “Yes!”

She snorts and shakes her head. “They don’t, not really, but - something stuck in your mind so much that your subconscious can conjure it for dreams that put you off your game so much? Mmmh, I’m afraid you care more than you let on.”

“I don’t!” Terushima snaps back. “Why would I - he’s the most boring guy I ever set _eyes on -_ ”

He cuts himself off there, eyes widening in terror as he realises his slip-up. But Misaki doesn’t look too taken aback, or disgusted, or anything. Her smile is still there, if a little … not quite sad, but something along those lines. Terushima doesn’t like it, but it’s better than any alternative.

“Don’t overthink it, okay?” she says gently. “There’s no need to. It’s fine.” Something about the way she says those last two words sounds heavier, laced with meanings Terushima doesn’t want to look close enough at to figure them out, but Misaki’s conviction soothes his frayed nerves and puts him somewhat at ease.

“Is it?” he asks, voice sounding a little too small, and a part of him knows that maybe, this isn’t about a mere dream anymore.

“Yes,” Misaki replies with a smile, gently squeezing his biceps. “Yes, it is.”

Even when it doesn't help with his confusion much - at least Terushima feels a whole lot better anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misaki has been, and always shall be, the MVP.


	11. Muffins and Fate | G | Goshihina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold and lonely and sad waiting for his train, sunshine finds Goshiki after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to everyone who was kind to me on my moving day ♥

Shivering, Goshiki cuddled more into his jacket, the straps of his backpack clutched tightly for lack of anything else to hold on to.

This was it. He'd stopped crying pretty fast after his family had been out of sight, but he still refused to think too much of the goodbye or else he might just burst back into tears. Which nobody needed and had been embarrassing enough once.

What a miserable morning. Whoever had thought moving would be fun was direly mistaken. So far, Goshiki had suffered too little sleep to tell his whole family goodbye, he was sick with nerves, and it was 5.30 a.m. and pitch black out. He was all alone with his meagre little backpack and felt lost and scared and really,  _ really  _ tired.

Studying so far from home suddenly felt like a huge mistake. Biting his lip, Goshiki lowered his head. He had to stop thinking about things like these or he  _ would  _ cry again. Unacceptable. He was stronger than this, damn it! But he missed his family so much already … 

The thought of waking up someplace new tomorrow had been stripped of its novel thrill and left a bare terror-inducing skeleton. Goshiki didn't want to move anymore, he just wanted to go home and curl up in his bed, eat his dad's cooking and argue with his siblings and have his dog Momo lick his hands to wake him up.

He just wanted to go  _ home,  _ his real home – and fuck, there he went, this was so embarrassing -

“Hey!” Someone called brightly, and suddenly, Goshiki's vision was  _ filled  _ with a small boy, eyes sparking even brighter than his hair as he grinned up at him. “Here you go!”

And he shoved a paperbag at Goshiki's chest.

Flustered and confused, Goshiki accepted it reflexively. “Hey, wait – I think you're confusing me for someone else?”

“Nah!” the boy offered, grin still chipper. He had so much energy even at way too damn early o'clock, he was actually bouncing on his heels. “You looked like you could need a coffee and a muffin so I got you one! I don't know what's going on but I'm sure you'll be just fine!” And he smiled, lips tilting up quickly, keeping steady for a heartbeat before his smile kept growing slowly, made his eyes crinkle, too, and the spark in them made Goshiki forget how to breathe, just for a second.

“Ah, huh?! But -” Tongue tied, the smell of the food and coffee reached him, and he bit back an unholy sound at it.

“It's fine!” the boy reassured him, raising a bag of his own. “I got a share, too! Hi, I'm Hinata Shouyou!”

“Goshiki,” he muttered back, blinking rapidly. It felt a lot like looking into the sun, too bright and demanding. But he couldn't look away either. “Goshiki Tsutomu. It's, uh, nice to meet you?”

That dazzling smile again - didn’t Hinata’s cheeks hurt from that? “It’s really nice to meet you, too! That smile looks a lot nicer on you!”

Huh? Goshiki felt a little flustered he hadn’t even realised he was grinning back, but at the feeling of it, he felt some actual joy light up inside him. He hadn’t thought anything could make him smile until this oddball of a person had shoved food at him and - oh! Food! Right! 

When he dug into the bag and found a fresh, fluffy, ridiculously alluring looking muffin, honestly - he could have gone right ahead and kissed Hinata. Just for making him smile. Just for bringing him food and showing a bit of kindness. And maybe, just for looking so damn adorable bouncing on his feet, even though Goshiki felt vaguely offended about his energy so early in the morning as well. 

With a sigh, Goshiki took a careful bite, eyes fluttering shut. How delicious. 

“Hey, are you taking the train from this platform, too?” Hinata asked. “Wanna sit with me? We could eat together! I bet it'd be a lot less boring that way!” 

Eyes flying open again, Goshiki found himself nodding before his brain had given the ‘okay’ for that gesture. Sitting with this energetic, kind person sounded a million times better than moping alone with his dread and homesickness. 

He had a three hour train ride ahead. 

That would be enough to get Hinata’s number, right?

“I’m headed for university now, actually,” Goshiki declared, finding a little of his pride again. 

Hinata beamed back at him. “Me too! Hey, hey, now I already know someone! I mean, not that I don’t know people there, but still!” He pumped one fist in the air, and maybe Goshiki had … really kind of fallen for that smile. 

He simply smiled back, fool that he was, and found that he wasn’t even freezing as badly anymore - not with a warm cup in his hand and literal sunshine right before his eyes. 

“I bet it was fate!” Hinata declared brightly.

“I guess,” Goshiki mumbled and took a sip of his coffee, relishing in the taste of caffeine and chocolate on his tongue. He was just tired and warm enough to maybe fall a bit for that idea, too - something grander than caffeine and muffins bringing them together. 

And his smile just wouldn't stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goshiki wants to get Hinata's number so bad but the truth is turns out they're rommates in the end, you're welcome, son.  
> (They show affection by bringing each other food in trying times forever.)


End file.
